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<title>Every breath takes me closer to you/We didn't know it yet by Speckleflower</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969031">Every breath takes me closer to you/We didn't know it yet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speckleflower/pseuds/Speckleflower'>Speckleflower</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adorable Marc Anciel, Cute Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, Marc and Nathaniel make the comic, Social Media, Tumblr Prompt, cute beans, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:55:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speckleflower/pseuds/Speckleflower</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crimson nods, mouth turning up into a shy grin. For some reason, something inside Marc’s heart squeezes and he begs his face to stop undoubtedly flushing.<br/>It’s not like he can help it, though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marc Anciel &amp; Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Tumblr 500 Celebration</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Every breath takes me closer to you/We didn't know it yet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrcklayer/gifts">TheBrcklayer</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written to celebrate the <a href="https://miraculousfanworks.tumblr.com/"> Miraculous Fanworks Tumblr</a> reaching 500 followers!!! Congrats!!! This is for you, Brick :D<br/>Enjoy the MarcNath hehe, oh I do love these cute beans~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fingers pad nervously across the keyboard, bitten nails soundless against the letters adorned with multicoloured stickers. Marc Anciel rubs his sweating palms together, but it does nothing to ease the flood of anxiety that is currently swamping him.</p><p><em> Breathe, Marc</em>, he repeats like a mantra in his mind. <em> Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Repeat. </em></p><p>The words of the therapist replay over and over, the day he went for help for his anxiety relating to sharing what he creates. It's one piece of advice specifically that bounces around his head.</p><p>
  <em> "Reach out, perhaps over the internet." Her too-bright smile bores into him like he's faced with a stark white wall. A blank slate devoid of splashes of colour. </em>
</p><p>Not that what she said can't be put to use.</p><p>Easy for her to say, though. She doesn't know how it feels to tremble at the mere mention of talking to someone else. To actually share his writing with other people.</p><p>For other people to read the flow that comes from his head like black streams from a typewriter, his own thoughts and inner feelings projected as a yellow lamp on blackboard, highlighting spreads of maps and crossing string, barely scratching the surface.</p><p>He had dismissed the idea of talking to strangers on the internet almost immediately, on the basis that he would never dare to venture that far. Not the strangers part—he barely knows anyone well enough to call them acquaintances, so he acts the same with everyone, no matter whether he’s interacting through his wavering voice or the clack of his keyboard. But now he considers it. What mistakes can be make to humiliate himself more than he's done in the past? He shrugs. There's nothing to lose.</p><p>Marc shivers as he types out a message on a local forum, and reads over his draft.</p><p><b>introvert.rainbow.nerd: </b>Hello. I am a writer looking for an artist, to collaborate on a comic. Located: Central Paris. Comment or DM for more info :)</p><p>After panicking for some time over whether or not to post a sample of his writing, Marc steels himself. If people don't know what he can do, how does he expect to get anywhere? He scans through a document and picks out a short extract he feels would convey his skills.</p><p>
  <em> You can do it. Get through this, hurdle by hurdle. This is what it takes, and you can do it. </em>
</p><p>He's almost paralysed from fear as he skims over his post for the fifth time, checking it's perfect. Or rather, as perfect as it can be.</p><p>Finally he bites his lip and breaks the staring contest with his screen which he’s been holding for far too long, blinking the brightness from his irises. <em> If you wait any longer, you'll chicken out. </em></p><p>One click away.</p><p>The cursor hovers over 'post'; his index finger trails over the left button on the mouse.</p><p>The black plastic is rough underneath.</p><p>
  <em> Click. </em>
</p><p><em> Oh my God</em>.</p><p>Panicking, Marc runs a hand through his dark hair and leaves his palms on his head, letting out a long-held breath.</p><p>Now he will just wait to see if anyone will answer him.</p><p>------------------</p><p>Marc sleeps on his bed envelopes by darkness, swirls of worry surrounding him.</p><p>------------------</p><p>The next day, he receives a comment on his post from a user named Crimson_riot713. They're an artist, seemingly interested in working with him to create the comic. Marc is equal parts excited and nervous; his face lights up at the art pieces Crimson displays on their portfolio—the style is brilliant, and perfect for the comic.</p><p>He’d dare say there’s a warm feeling in his chest.</p><p>------------------</p><p>Two weeks later, four comment threads and thirty-eight private messages, Marc has arranged to meet with Crimson at a convention for creators happening nearby. There’s both a spring and a tug in his step as he walks, so it’s a kind of dance as he crosses the streets, getting nearer and nearer to the venue.</p><p>After receiving his name sticker, he wanders around for a while, revelling in the art displays and the pure talent. Then, at one of the walls, he sees a whiteboard with “introverted.rainbow.nerd” written on it, along with a cat face in green ink. His gaze shifts upwards to the figure holding the board—Crimson, he presumes—leaning against the wall with the wisp of a smile on their face, gazing off into far space.</p><p><em> Crap. </em> He had known that Crimson’s art was stunning. He <em> hadn't </em> known that Crimson <em> themself </em>was beautiful.</p><p>Their messily swept hair is violently red—Marc smiles inwardly at the reference to Crimson’s username—and it tumbles over bright turquoise eyes. These eyes suddenly drift to his, and Marc’s cheeks redden; he tucks a strand of dark hair subconsciously behind his ear, shifting on his feet.</p><p>Marc points a finger to his chest, indicating “<em>Me?” </em>at the sign, even though it’s fairly obvious, as it has his name on it. Crimson nods, mouth turning up into a shy grin. For some reason, something inside Marc’s heart squeezes and he begs his face to stop undoubtedly flushing.</p><p>It’s not like he can help it, though.</p><p>---------------</p><p>“And that’s how we met!” Marc laughs softly at the recollection.</p><p>"Whoa." Marinette says.</p><p>Marc leans into Nathaniel comfortingly. “Mhm. We got talking—it was surprisingly easy for us to start and have conversations, and we got to work on the comic. It took a while to get off, but eventually we gained a lot of followers on our social media, who supported us greatly."</p><p>“You could say we just <em> clicked </em> from the start!” Nathaniel interjects. “Even if you were a blushing mess who couldn’t formulate words,” he teases fondly.</p><p>“Nateeee,” Marc groans. “Don’t remind me,” he squeaks.</p><p>“Here it is, coming back!” Nathaniel grins, and then leans in for a hug. Marc accepts it gratefully, smiling into Nathaniel’s warm shoulder as he is gripped with strong arms. The smile widens even more as he feels his boyfriend’s lips tenderly brushing the top of his head. Safe. Accepted.</p><p>Home.</p>
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